If By My Life or Death, I Can Protect You, I Will
by ThickerThanLove
Summary: Arriving in Valinor at the end of Return of the King, Bilbo was supposed to find peace. His aching heart and body were supposed to heal. But the wounds and losses of the past will not stay buried and those lost on the Quest to Erebor haunt his thoughts. So, he makes it his mission to fix it, even if he has to appeal to Eru Himself.
1. Chapter 1

"It is beautiful, isn't it?"  
Bilbo turned to his nephew and he lay a hand in his curled hair. The boy leaned into it, as he had done when it was just a small lad. There was a deep desire, longing in need in it now that made Bilbo's heart ache. If he had known that little golden ring would have caused so much heartache for everyone he loved…  
"Aye, it is, my dear boy. Valinor, the undying lands."

"You used to tell me stories about them." Frodo remarked, one hand still over the old Morgol wound on his shoulder. It had begun to ease on the journey over the sea though a faint throb still remained. "I used to spend hours drawing and painting what it might look like but none of them came close to this. I don't think even if I had seen it, in some far off dream, would I have been able to replicate it."  
"Such is the wonder of Aman."  
The soft, almost angelic voice behind them gave way to a fading white light that was the Lady of Light, Galadriel. Her smile, as always, was welcoming and warm. She looked upon the two Hobbits down with grace and thanks even as her fingers brushed first Bilbo then Frodo's brow as she gazed out upon the land where she had first drawn breath. "As Middle Earth was meant to be once, before it was marred by Morgoth." She knelt and lay her hand over Frodo's, gently easing it from his shoulder. "I promise you, Ring Bearer, you will find comfort here. Aman is a land free of the posion of Morgoth; his grip over you will break on these shores."  
Frodo smiled but Bilbo saw the raw pain in those eyes. The pain that comes with leaving those you find so dear behind you. He had seen the tears and pain when Frodo watched the docks of the Grey Havens until they faded away, though he knew it was for the best that he left. Bilbo knew that pain all too well. It was not one healed, even by the lands of the Spirits and Gods. Loss of those dear to you was a wound to the spirit that no amount of time or magic could undo. It had been so long but the pain he felt in his heart when he thought of Thorin or Fili or Kili was as fresh as the day it had happened. He had learned to let the pain ride over him and pass but it only shortened in length, not intensity.  
Not things to haunt his nephew with. He had enough to try and recover from. The burden he had been settled with was unfair in the deepest measure. It was a cruel irony not lost on Bilbo. His first adventure that had given him the dwarven companions that were the nearest thing to family he had ever had was the same adventure that had snatched them from him, in one way or another. Then, when he had left this time, he had damned his nephew to a fate worse than death. The slow deterioration of the ring.  
If he had known…  
"Uncle?"  
Shaking himself from the somber thought, he set his nephew with what he hoped was an encouraging smile and was ever so grateful when the old wizard—one of his remaining oldest friends—appeared at the doorway.  
He gave a nod of encouragement and "Nothing to bother your head about, my boy" with a gentle nudge towards the stairs. Frodo met Gandalf at the door and followed him up to the deck. The ship had ceased its movement and soon, they would set foot on the land that they only knew in legends.  
To the Lady Galadriel, he waited and then, once alone, she spoke.  
"You wish something of me, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire?" It was more a statement than a question but he appreciated her consideration in awaiting his reply.  
"Aye, I do." He bowed lightly to her. "I would ask something of you milady."  
"Ask, dear Hobbit. I cannot guarantee anything but I shall listen and do what I can. You began the downfall of Sauron. A small ripple in an ocean of possibilities." Riddles. It must have had something to do with Aman. Seemed everyone from here spoke in riddles.  
He took a breath and locked eyes with her, "I would meet with Manwë if I could."  
She laughed, a lovely sound and not one done out of distain but rather out of genuine contentment. "Oh, Bilbo Baggins. Mithrandir is right to view all Hobbits but you especially with such high regard. You have not yet taken step on Aman and yet you request his counsel?" Again, there was a hint of lack of surprise despite her laughter depicting otherwise.  
"I do, Milady. As soon as I may. If he insists on refusing then do be so kind as to inform him that Bilbo Baggins will plant himself firmly as near to him as possible and will carry on a conversation as if he were by my side. And I will do so until he would acknowledge me."  
Galadriel smiled, again, that gentle, caring smile. "Not many would risk the wrath of Manwë, Bilbo Baggins."  
"It would be far more unpleasant to risk the wrath of Bilbo Baggins. I can name many a folk that can attest to that. Mortal though I am, it, in many ways, makes me far more adept at being unpleasant if it suits my fancy."  
"I have seen it for myself and it boils in your kin just as strong and nay, I do not believe the wrath of Bilbo Baggins would be welcomed by any, even a mighty Valar." The elven Queen offered her hand. "Come. I will appeal to Manwë on your behalf."  
"Many thanks, gentle Galadriel."

* * *

"Bilbo Baggins, I swear of all the Hobbits of the world, you are undoubtedly, the most obstinate."  
"I will not argue with you, dear Gandalf." Bilbo remarked as they took step by step together down the shore. "All the same, Lady Galadriel insists that I have been granted my audience." He folded his arms firmly, as if planting his commitment.  
"Out of pure curiosity, I am sure and no small amount of mercy." Gandalf shook his head. "My dear Hobbit, take care. Manwë, though having a deep heart of caring, is not openly hospitable. He was not thrilled at the prospect of non-elven kind on these shores but he has relented. You, while an honored guest, are a guest all the same!"  
"I shall not forget it, Gandalf. I am well aware of what a poor guest makes one feel." Bilbo assured him even as he stopped to gather his breath. "Nor am I ungrateful for what I have been given. But I must make my request of him alone. I hope you would grant Frodo some of your time. I shall return if I am able."  
The older wizard scowled and blew a puff of smoke on his pipe. "You are not aware of how truthful that statement may be, my dear Bilbo. Mind your tongue."  
"I will mind it as much as I do with others who are worthy of it."  
Gandalf shook his head but he lay one hand on the Hobbit's shoulder. "I do not know what you have to ask of him but do with grace." He frowned deeply. "And if I cannot persuade you against this foolishness…"  
"You cannot."  
"I thought as much. Peregrin Took was mere preparation to deal with you again, I see."  
"I shall be mindful of my manners, as a proper Baggins should but I shall be heard."  
"Yes yes but that Tookish blood runs fierce in you as well." But Gandalf left it at that and withdrew, leaving Bilbo at the base of Mount Taniquetil. His mutterings to himself was heard for quite some distance before it faded.  
That left the Baggins of Bag End in front of the mighty mountain of the world. It stretched above him far beyond what he could imagine seeing and he stood, still and silent for quite some time. Snowy fluffs could be seen faintly in the disrtance but it was hard to tell if it was from sleet or the clouds themselves engulfing the mountain tip. The very faint screeching of eagles or something similar to them in any event gave an eerie sense of a journey for a very different mountain, so many years ago and Bilbo found himself drifting in the memory far longer than was advisable.  
Finally, a figure approached him. He did not see where he had come from but he did not waste time pondering it. Rather, he stayed where he was, standing up straight and the man-like figure drew closer. Clothed in flowing robes of blue and purple, hair that spiraled long and soft as the clouds above, and eyes that pierced everywhere at once, the distance between them closed until it was simply Hobbit and Valar. One a mere ant in size and power to another.  
Bilbo's firm posture did not falter.  
"So, this is the Hobbit Bilbo Baggins that has the strength of heart and will to ask for me, is it?"  
Bilbo looked upward at him (and thought it quite rude that he had to arch his neck to do so when the Valar could certainly have adjusted his height to be more pleasant). "Aye, it is. Am I to take it that you are Valar Manwë, Lord of the Breath of Arda?"  
"So I am. What would you have of me, youngling?" The voice roared and whispered all at once, of all the winds of the world.  
Bilbo, despite his advanced age, chuckled, "I suppose to you, all things are young. I come to you with an unusual request though I suspect me coming at all is unusual enough."  
"So it is." There was no anger in that statement but no compassion either. It was a statement, nothing more and nothing less. The King of the Valar had no time for pleasantries, it appeared.  
"I am grateful for the gift that has been offered me. Aman is beautiful, beyond all account of measure and my spirit feels weary no longer among these shores." He paused and laid a hand over his chest. "But my heart is still heavy. I may have served my purpose in this war but there was more I could have done."  
"You and your halfling kin did more than even the Valar thought you capable of." Now, there was a hint of pleasantry and heart to the voice, though it did not lessen in intensity. "Your kind are favored of Yavanna and her pride in you has not been misplaced."  
"Perhaps but I am unsatisfied. I come to you with a request, Lord Manwë. A chance to correct those mistakes. I would ask that, in exchange for my remaining time, however short it may be, among these Blessed Lands, I be allowed to return to the time of the Quest for Erebor and set right my wrongs."  
There. He had said it.  
The sky itself seemed to rumble. "You jest, Hobbit."  
"On the contrary, Lord Manwë," Bilbo bowed again. "I am quite serious. Though it may be beyond your power, it is not beyond Ilúvatar's."  
"It is not customary for Ilúvatar to be granting desires of mortals when life does not go as they would wish–"  
"Not accustomed but He HAS allowed it." Bilbo set his fists upon his hips and settled his form to be as tall as he could manage. "As I recall, He allowed the adoption of the dwarves and has shown mercy to those whom carry true humility and sincerity within their hearts. He allowed the return of Lúthien as a mortal woman. I do not pretend to be as worthy as those but I am requesting that it be presented unto Him, all the same." Bilbo folded his arms, "If He does not permit it, I shall accept as such but I cannot rest until it is at least presented. If I am to be given any gift for my service to Middle Earth, I would wish it to be thus."  
"What drives such a desire," This question came from above. Not from Manwë. No, this was feminine and the stars above seemed to shimmer in a smile. It lasted but a hair of a moment before it was as if the darkness of the night sky had taken physical form before him in the tallest woman he had ever seen. With eyes made of pure starlight and blackness that wrapped around that was as much cloak and clothing as hair, her voice and the manner in which she spoke meant it could be none other than the Queen of the Valar.  
"Lady Varda, I presume. Or do you prefer Elebereth as the elves know you?" Bilbo gave her a bow of deep respect, as he had given her husband.  
"Either, young Hobbit. The name is of little significance." She spoke again, "My husband is not always best with words. Hence, I will speak in his stead. What drives such a desire, I ask you again."  
"The same desire of Ilúvatar, for his world, his children." Bilbo answered. "Love. I ask the chance to stop needless death, ease the pain of parting and to save those dwarves that are family to me. I once crossed Middle Earth for them. I shall cross Aman for them as well, for the chance to right a most egregious wrong." He took a deep breath. "I do not presume to be worthy of this chance. But I am asking for Ilúvatar's mercy in hearing me, all the same."  
The King and Queen of the Valar exchanged glances. Varda, in the flowing manner that was accustomed to her, wrapped her arms around her husband and spoke. "The Hobbit has a heart of valor, far more than many we see, Husband. And he speaks no untruth."  
"Nay." Manwë allowed. "He speaks nothing but facts. His heart is stout."  
Varda nodded and lay a hand on her husband's cheek. "We have appealed to Eru for less and we shall appeal to him for more. Bilbo has fought a long life, and yet, here among the Blessed Land, he seeks only to do more. The least we can offer is that his request be heard. Eru, in His wisdom, will make His decision. Only He knows how the music shall play."  
The King of the Valar was silent for a few moments more. He looked upon his wife, into her eyes of starlight and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away except for those two. Unspoken conversation, a thousand words in a gaze, passed.  
Manwë turned to Bilbo after what seemed an eternity. "Return to your rooms. I will speak to Eru on your behalf, Bilbo of the Shire."


	2. Chapter 2

"What did he look like?"

Bilbo spun his spoon a bit, letting the tea settle and enjoy the warmth and scent. The sunlight streaming in the window was welcomed. It reminded him of such evenings and mornings in the Shire, when the sound of birds and occasional chattering of folk outside would drift, just enough to dust your atmosphere with the sound of civilization.

If not for the sound of the breaking of water against the rocks outside, he could nearly imagine himself back on his porch in Bag End, taking a nice puff of his pipe as second breakfast settled and he enjoyed the signs of the world just waking up.

"Uncle?"

Blinking once then twice, it took Frodo gently laying his hand over Bilbo's before the older Hobbit looked up. "Ah, my apologies, my lad."

"You've been distant since yesterday…no, since we arrived Uncle." Frodo furrowed his brow and took a sip of his tea. "I was asking you about your meeting with Manwë yesterday and you just seemed lost in thought." Frodo paused, "I hope I'm not bothering you Uncle."

Chuckling, lightly, Bilbo lay a hand on the boy's left cheek. "My dear boy, as I recall, I have never neglected to tell you when you are being a bit too enthusiastic, have I?"

Smiling, and yes, the light seemed a bit more bright in his eyes though still haunted, Frodo admitted with a shake of his head, "No, you were always honest on that, Uncle Bilbo."

"I shan't be changing that now." Bilbo set his spoon down and after taking a bite of the small sandwiches before them and swallowing, he advised, "I am focused now, my boy. What were you asking, again?"

Frodo smiled, "About Manwë."

Bilbo took a moment, enjoying the warmth of Frodo's smile. It had been a while since there had been so much light to it. Not without weight but the burden of the ring was lifting here. There was hope and healing again.

A burden he should never have had to carry.

"Ah, Manwë. He is a rather peculiar fellow, my boy. Though, I surmise that being the Voice of Eru will do that to a person, even after eons of having the position. Though, I would say that even with that issue, he could stand a bit of a lesson in manners. His wife, Varda was a bit more approachable."

Frodo took a sip of his tea and offered, "Well, I suppose this is all rather new to them. Elves, as you've told me, are expected here and Gandalf is a Maia. But two small Hobbits…that would be rather unexpected. Though Lady Yavanna seems pleased with it."

Ah, the Lady of the Earth? Bilbo set his nephew with a curious eye. "Ah, so I am not the only one requesting the presence of the Valar?"

Blushing slightly, Frodo had a stern argument. "I did not request her presence, I was merely honored by it." Now, his face lit up, as it had so often in his younger years, when he had first come to Bag End. When they would finish supper and then sit by the fire, letting the warmth dance across their faces as Bilbo would weave one of his tales until slumber took the boy's eyes. "Lord Elrond thought I might appreciate her gardens and the hills of greens. As I was walking among the trees, I spied her and she approached me Uncle."

Eyes warm and only heightened by the scent of the food and drink, Bilbo reached forward and embraced his nephew. "Did she now? Do tell, my boy for it is a great privilege to speak to the Lady of the Green."

"She did not say much. But her voice was like all the birds that used to nest in the thicket in the Shire. It dripped like honey. She sounded young, far younger than I thought she might, as if she were perpetually blessed with maidenhood."

Oh, Bilbo could only imagine. So many of their stories had been around Lady Yavanna. He had been surprised that even Thorin and his Company had exchanged stories of her. While their respect lay in Mahal, the Valar Aulë, her husband, they had nothing but respect for her and gave praise to the fruits her earth provided. Her mercy and passion for her growing things was something that their families looked to for inspiration. According to Ori, a wonderful compliment for a Dwarven family was to be compared to Yavanna.

Fili and Kili had spoken at length about how while dwarves did not possess the skill with the earth that Hobbits did, they knew how to plant and how to raise crops. Thorin had even mentioned that Erebor had possessed a large garden way up in the upper levels where foods could be grown and often were before the dragon came. He spoke at length about how they had active veins of gem, gold and silver that lined the open platform and the hanging branches and vines would nearly form a painting as they contrasted.

He had never gotten a chance to show it to Bilbo.

"Oh, Uncle, you must see the rolling hills! Sam would so have loved her fields. Full to the brim they were with trees, trees so heavy with fruit that they nearly touched the ground. Potatoes, carrots, shrubs, herbs, anything that could come from the ground!" Frodo went quiet a moment, contemplative. "Sam...my dearest Sam…he told me…when the Ring…tried to tempt him…all he could see was making Middle Earth his own personal garden. He…all but laughed at the concept because, you see, it was already a garden." Folding his hands into his lap, Frodo looked upward, eyes fixated on the lovely glass fixtures through which the wonder of the sun and moon were never absent. "My dear Sam…I do hope you are happy."

Bilbo's heart lurched. Sam and Frodo had always been close ever since they were small things. But when he had heard of Sam's loyalty on the quest, through all trials, even against a spider as ferocious and ancient as Shelob, Bilbo had looked upon the boy with more respect, more honor and more gratitude than he thought himself capable of feeling. The loyalty of that boy could not be measured.

Yes, indeed, he hoped that Sam was happy too.

"You gave Sam and Rosie Bag End, did you not, my boy?"

Frodo nodded. "I did. Sam has much left to do, though it pains me not have him by my side. After you left the Shire, he became my constant companion, even more so than Merry or Pippin, much as I love them as well. Then, when I began this long journey, he was forever by my side, no matter the obstacle or what I might have said unto him." Tapping his fingers on the table a moment, Frodo once more glanced outside. "I think I understand now, more so than I did before, what you meant when you said that an adventure could fill your heart with empty longing. I gained much on the Quest, Uncle—on myself, in the form of deep friendships and understanding and while my heart and spirit was mending here, there is a deep emptiness as well. The emptiness of leaving them behind and not knowing when or if I shall see them again?" He eyed his relative with something akin to desperation. "Do you think it is so, Uncle? That we have been parted forever?"

Bilbo shook his head. "No. No, I do not believe it is so. You have suffered much, my dear boy, and I do not believe that will be your fate." He bit his lower lip. "I am sorry to have been a cause of it, of this pain, no matter how small. I know all too well the pain of parting and I would not have wished it even on my most loathsome of enemies." He stroked a loose hair from Frodo's eyes. "Hence, I am taking what steps I must to correct it. For you. For Middle Earth. For myself. For those that I have had to say farewell to, long before it was proper."

Frodo didn't need to ask; he knew that look in his Uncle's eyes. As much as Bilbo never tired of telling the Journey to Erebor, it was rare that he told the ending beyond "the dwarves of Erebor were triumphant." He had told Frodo and Frodo through extension had told Sam and Merry and eventually Pippin had learned from Merry but he never brought up such sad endings with the Hobbit children. Not only because he wished them to continue the delusion that there was such a thing as endings where all was good and right again for as long as possible but because Bilbo could rarely hold his voice steady when speaking on the losses of the Durin family.

He always went to bed early those nights and Frodo would hear Bilbo sob deep into the night. So, they had stopped asking about the details of the battle and only focused on the quest itself. Now that he carried his own heavy heart burdens, Frodo felt he understood. Though, he also knew he did not understand.

He had bid farewell to Sam, Pippin and Merry but he knew they were safe. He knew they were alive. He knew Sam was having children and was enjoying it more each day. Pippin had found himself a love with Diamond of Long Cleeve and Frodo had no doubt they would have at least one child before all was said and done. He even suspected that Pippin might honor his dear friend Faramir when the time came to name any future children. Then there was Merry whom was still on a lookout for a love himself but had perhaps found a potential one in Estella. She was a pleasant enough Hobbit lass with just enough sass to keep up with the only Hobbit knight of Rohan.

Yes, yes, all his friends, though he might have said farewell had long lives laid out before them and many wonderful adventures they had yet to have. Many wonderful things they were yet to do and he was warm at heart at the thought.

Uncle Bilbo did not have that luxury.

Thorin was struck down with his kingdom at his feet and Fili and Kili…Bilbo often spoke of their gusto and love for life only for it to snatched away. Then the horrible news they had borne back about the fates of Balin, Ori and Oin…

"What did you ask of Manwë, Bilbo Baggins?"

The sudden new voice was a surprise and yet not unexpected. Bilbo took a moment to set down his cup and turned. Frodo stood up and ran forward, wrapped Gandalf in a hug as the old man entered the room. There was sternness to his figure, not something unusual for the wizard but at the embrace by Frodo, warmth and the kindness that was well known by all that took the time to get to know him bled through. The man chuckled and stroked Frodo's hair a moment before the Hobbit pulled away.

"Gandalf, we didn't know you were coming!"

"As I've said before, a wizard arrives when he desires to, Frodo, neither before or after."

Rolling his eyes slightly, Bilbo stood, retrieving his walking stick and made his way over. "You are similar to the elves in that manner, old friend. Riddles and saying both yes and no in the same instance."

"I would imagine that you are well accustomed to riddles, Bilbo Baggins." The older man countered but the intensity had not left his eyes. "But if you wish me to speak freely, so I shall. Your demands of Manwë have not gone unnoticed."

Bilbo scoffed. "Demands? I would hardly call it such. I made a request, simple as that."

"And the request you made was hardly simple!"

Bilbo eyed his nephew who was looking from him to Gandalf and back again with something akin to anxiety in his eyes. Hardening his voice, Bilbo set his eyes on the wizard. "Gandalf, my old friend, if you have a desire to speak to me candidly about that which you think I made egregious errors, let us take a walk to discuss this. This does not involve Frodo and I'll not have us dragging him into it!"

This seemed to calm the wizard's storm and he stopped, turned to the younger Hobbit. "Y…yes, quite right." Clearing his throat, Gandalf remarked. "Your uncle and I will discuss some things, Frodo but I promise you, it will be civilly." He shifted to Bilbo. "As I recall, you have not yet seen Yavanna's green hills, have you?"

Taking up his walking stick, Bilbo shook his head, "I have not and if what Frodo has told me, that is a dreadful shame. Come, let us correct that now." He turned to his nephew, "If I recall, my boy, Lord Elrond may have some more stories to tell you here than I have ever heard. So many ancestors he has been able to reconnect with. Let him occupy your time this afternoon and I will look forward to your full report at dinner."

"…yes, Uncle."

OOO

"I will not rescind my request, if that is what you desire from me, Gandalf."

The wizard sighed heavily. "It is neither a simple thing nor something to simply push aside to ask for the Valar to appeal to Eru, Bilbo Baggins."

"Perhaps not, but Manwë agreed to it all the same, with some pressure and proper council from Lady Varda."

"Pure curiosity and utter shock at your tenacity I am sure."

"Do not play games with me." Bilbo stopped and turned. "I spoke to them candidly as I do to you now. I desire to fix that which should not have come to pass. I look to stop needless suffering, if it possible. To stop deaths that should not have happened."

"Such is the casualty of war, Bilbo Baggins." The wizard spoke softly though no less intently. "Life is not a fair entity, designed to hand out equal lots to us all."

"No, it is not but I will strive to make it more fair than it has been." Bilbo insisted again. "I will fix it if I may. I am not questioning the fact of it being unfair, Gandalf. I am simply questioning if it must remain that way."

"You are questioning the path that has already been laid, Bilbo Baggins."

"I am!" The hobbit turned and his eyes were fierce and full of fire. "Don't stand there and pretend you do not know what I have asked. I know you have. And I know you know WHY I have asked."

Gandalf paused in step, took a deep sigh. "Your grief over the line of Durin—"

"Thorin. Fili. Kili. They had…HAVE…names Gandalf! Use them!"

Turning, the wizard knelt so that he was at eye level with Bilbo. The hobbit's eyes were watery and red and despite his advanced age, oh, there was so much fury in his face that Gandalf had no doubt that if he had possessed Sting at the moment, he would have drawn it, Valinor or not.

"Bilbo, my old friend." The wizard laid a hand on each shoulder. "You know me better than that. I mean no disrespect to their memory. But the dead are dead, Bilbo Baggins. It does us little good to linger on them for so long that they poison our present."

"Don't speak of them like it is damaging to remember them." Bilbo gathered his breath and he challenged. "You have given me much wisdom in my life, old friend, but I will not accept this. Not if there is a chance, even a fraction of a chance. And you can lie to yourself all you want, Gandalf but I have seen through your lies."

"Oh? When have I lied to you? Not been always open with all I know, yes, that is true but—"

"Whenever you looked at Pippin and Merry." Bilbo gathered his voice. "Whenever you would come, always under the pretense of your fireworks or making merry but your eyes always drifted to them. As they laughed and danced and drank. Look me in the eye, Gandalf and swear unto me by the very land we stand upon, that you have NEVER looked at them and not wondered on Fili and Kili."

Gandalf stared at Bilbo, for a long time, seemed to age centuries in mere moments. Bilbo could almost see him remembering, revisiting and the weariness of his heart bled through his eyes. With a heavy sigh, the white wizard stood again.

"I cannot. I will not deny that their deaths, if nothing else, have weighed heavy on my heart."

"As they have on mine. I sit awake and wonder some nights…what they would have been like. If they would have married, had children, how Fili would have done so well as a King with his brother by side. Oh, the pride in Thorin's eyes…" Bilbo took a breath again, a shaky one. "I do not pretend that this is some utterly noble quest or venture, Gandalf though, indeed, the elements of that do exist. I meant what I said when I said I meant to stop suffering, stop pain, maybe stop this whole war…but my heart knows that it is for them the most that I want to go. That I want to change things, however I may."

"Noble in principle, my friend." Gandalf spoke simply. "But you are not as young as you once were. How would you manage to correct so wide an error that you claim their deaths were?"

"Crawling on my hands and knees, if need be."

Gandalf eyed the hobbit a long moment. The wonder of the Blessed Land had aided his memory somewhat but it did nothing for Bilbo's body. It was still hunched, slow, reliant on a cane and hair as white as his own. To send him on a quest such as this, it was as much a death sentence as if Gandalf had swung his own blade upon him.

And yet, as he had felt with Frodo, a hint of hope awoke in the wizard's heart. He smiled, a weary, worried and yet amused grin.

"Bilbo Baggins, as I said unto your nephew not so long ago. Hobbits really are amazing creatures. Here I had thought I had known everything about them and yet, here you are, again, my friend, surprising me."

Bilbo stood firm and tall, but did not answer.

Gandalf gestured with his left arm and guided Bilbo with his right. "My purpose this day was to convince you otherwise of this favor but I do not feel that I can. Nor, anymore, do I wish to. Being that as it is…"

Bilbo eyed him, suspicious and not without cause but Gandalf merely pointed forward to the great halls that loomed before them with his staff. "…Gandalf?"

"The Valar will see you now."


	3. Chapter 3

The City of Bells, as it was called, had to be seen to be believed. Bilbo had heard talk of it from the elves and he had often tried to imagine it. He and Frodo had spent many a night imagining the streets, the buildings, the glow that the city would have but as with the rest of Valinor, mortal imagination failed. Suffice to say that there was much gold, silver and likely mithril to make Bilbo's heart ache even more. It was a stark reminder of what he was striving more. The pain was his motivator.

Slipping behind Gandalf as they entered the large hall, Bilbo adjusted his grip on his walking stick. He meant to have his say, no matter whom he was speaking towards and the majesty and magnificence of this place would not sway him.

Besides, near as he was concerned, Erebor was more impressive.

He was well aware that it was probably blasphemy to even think such a thing but to him, it was true. This place was indeed full of wonder and peace and joy but Erebor had represented his friends, his dwarven family. When Thorin had spoken about Erebor, it had been with such longing and love and joy that everything else fell short. The way Fili and Kili would sit utterly enchanted as Thorin spun a tale of the kingdom he would rise to glory again. Bilbo had no doubt, even when Thorin was under the sway of Dragon Sickness, that his love for his home and his people would conquer everything and he would pull Erebor out of the ashes of the past.

And for all intents and purposes, he had. He had come to himself, something very few if any, had ever managed and charged forward, intent on leading his people to victory or dying in the process. He was a King in every sense of the word and as much as Bilbo had gained a respect for the rule of Dáin, he was no Thorin. He had not fought and bled from the Shire to the feet of the dragon.

Thorin. Fili. Kili. All three of them had. They'd fought and bled for the home under the mountain.

It was not _right_ they had been robbed of it.

"Bilbo Baggins." Gandalf was speaking to him and opened his arm towards the large anteroom. It was a great council room by the looks of it and while there were not large thrones or anything of the like, the Valar stood in their full glory and towered over the two of them as mountains towered over ants.

Or to be more precise, a select few Valar. It was hardly all of them but then Bilbo suspected that for such a request, not all were required. He did not know them by face save Manwë and Lady Varda. Looking around the room though, he spied two more pairs.

A tall man, clothed in black with his face hidden from view. He seemed to almost vanish from view of the rest of the room. As if made of mist and rain, he stood firm and unmoving as stone. His very presence seemed to cast weariness. That had to be Námo, the Judge of Dead. There could be no other with such a presence.

Seated to his left was a woman that was as much light as the Lord of the Dead was dark. With gown of purple and clue and hair that spiraled in white gold, she sat without much expression though with perhaps a knowing smile to her eye. After a moment, Bilbo realized that this must be Lady Vairë, the Weaver, the Vala so often forgotten but after whom the Hobbits of the Shire based the importance of their stories. As her weavings of the deeds of Middle Earth covered her husband's halls, so then did the songs and tales fill a Hobbit's heart.

But, Bilbo had to admit, as he walked into the grand hall, it was the couple that stood to Manwë's right that had his utmost attention, affection and respect. Of the Valar present, it was only these two that did not stand on the large platforms of stone above but rather on the tiled floor, as near to his level as they could be.

The woman, dress woven of clover and grass with hair that fell with as much brightness as newly bloomed corn and eyes as dark blue as the waters that fed their crops…there was no doubt, this was Lady Yavanna. He had imagined her, ever since his youth but seeing her before him was astounding. He gave her a low bow as he entered.

And to her side, could only be Aulë, the Maker of the Dwarves. Tall and firm as if carved from stone himself and with hair reminiscent of Durin's line and eyes that matched the brown of the rock, he regarded Bilbo with attention, interest and well, the Hobbit was not sure what else. All the same, as he had bowed to Yavanna, he also bowed to Aulë but this time, regardless of it was out of place or not, Bilbo spoke.

"Mahal, makargûn."

He had only heard samplings of Khuzdul when traveling with the dwarves but being a linguist, Bilbo could not help but pick up a few things. He had not intended to come in here spouting the Dwarves' private language but being faced with Aulë—the Vala that had given life to the dwarves that he loved so dearly—there was no other action more appropriate.

He hoped he had not insulted him by accident.

Aulë's face softened, as Bilbo had seen Thorin's do so often, usually when looking at Fili or Kili when he thought the others were otherwise occupied. "What I have heard of you is true then, small one. Your love for my children flows off you." There was deep pain in the Vala's eyes. "Manwë has told me of the request you have made and it has saddened but lightened my heart. To hear such of such devotion to my children fills me with hope."

Gandalf approached and bowed himself. "Great Manwë, I have done as you have commanded and I have spoken with Bilbo Baggins. He is full of resolve and I dare say, obstinate insistence. I do not feel he will be swayed and…I…do not believe he should be."

Manwë, silent up until this point, held up a hand. "So you say, Olórin. But Eru demands that I hear it from the Hobbit himself." He turned to Bilbo and gestured him forward. It was with great reluctance that Bilbo pulled himself from the gaze of Aulë, but he did so with dignity, leaning on his walking stick for support as he approached. "I have heard your request, Bilbo Baggins, and I have relayed as much to Eru. Even now, Eru's will and presence flows through me. To speak to me now is to speak to Eru himself. So, justify your request."

"Justify?" Bilbo repeated and he looked up at Manwë. Though the Vala had not changed physically, there was a difference in the room, a heaviness, a deep reverence. All the Valar had gone silent and Gandalf had fallen to both knees. Hearing the demand of Manwe though, Bilbo Baggins' heart was aset with anger. "Justify? I have nothing to justify and to hear you claim as such is quite ignorant on your part. I made my request for a reason quite simple and one that Eru understands all too well. I lost loved ones in the battle for the reclaiming of Erebor and the defeat of Smaug, the Dreaded Worm." He paused, folded his arms, "A dragon spawn from the first dragons of Morgoth that-I might add—were not seen to after the War of Wrath, a most egregious error if I may say so!"

Gandalf gritted his teeth, "Bilbo…"

"No, young Olórin," the voice that boomed from Manwe was deeper, more rich than before and under normal circumstances, Bilbo would have collapsed at the sound of it. There was no doubt; if there had been before, there was not now.

Eru was before him.

And Bilbo was angry.

"Thorin, my dear friend, was lost amid the battle for Erebor. Beset by Dragon Sickness, yes, he was but he tore himself from it, not something that many—even strong and righteous elves—can lay claim to. Yet he fell. And as he fell, his sister-sons, beloved young lads that were, fell defending him. I come before you to ask to right this wrong. And I maintain, mighty Eru, with all due respect, that it WAS wrong."

Yavanna, spoke out, her voice strong and firm. "Your voice is full of passion, child of the earth." Her eyes all but glistened. "But the music is set. The song is sung."

"Then let us correct it." Bilbo insisted, clutching his walking stick tightly in his hands. "Let us change the tune. The song that has been sung has indeed ended with the defeat of Sauron, the destruction of the Ring but it took so many along the way. Would it not be wise to offer a new song, brighter and more brilliant than the old?"

"You claim that you can weave a better sound?" Manwë…and yes, it was Manwë speaking.

"I claim nothing. I simply claim that the song that has been sung can be made more beautiful by allowing me to intervene and stop those three senseless deaths. And those lives can save many, many others."

"You love them deeply, Child." It was Aulë that spoke now. "You love them enough to appeal before Eru and demand he change what has been done."

"I demand that he allow me the chance to change what has been done!" Bilbo tapped his stick on the ground. "Eru has granted each of us the chance to make our own choices and create our own destinies. That is the beauty of the Music. I stand before you and claim that I did not sing my own part as well as I should have and I would correct that now and reintroduce three voices to the harmony! Voices that deserve and should be heard." Bilbo's voice cracked now. "I make no false promises. I do not know if I will be able to stop their deaths. I do not know what exactly I will be able to do that will correct it. But I mean to do what I can. I mean to push every ounce of my being into it. I mean to move heaven and earth itself if I have means to if it would let Thorin, Fili and Kili to live!"

The entire hall almost seemed to echo with the strength of his declaration. When no one responded, Bilbo lowered his head and added,

"You may call it selfish if you like. Perhaps…no, yes, it is selfish. I do not pretend to know why things happen. Maybe their deaths…were met to set something in motion but I cannot and WILL NOT believe it is for the better. Gandalf mentioned my age and he is right. I am old. The ring granted me far more years than I was entitled to. But as I told Gandalf, if I have a chance to make this right, I will crawl on my hands and knees to do it! All I want…is a chance."

There was again silence. This time it stretched on for what seemed to be hours before Manwe spoke once more, this time with the booming authority of Eru.

"It is rare that I hear such love. Such honesty. I will not undo what your younger self has done."

Bilbo crumbled, face nearly to the floor.

"But I will offer you the chance to intervene and alter the choices that he makes."

Bilbo looked up, his cheeks wet.

Manwë's face was full of power, white and blinding. "Here is my offer, Bilbo Baggins. I will grant you this night to prepare. You may choose to take with you what you will. The journey to Erebor took half of a year; I will grant you that time once more. Back into the Quest I will send you, come morning light, but take heed. You will never again step on Valinor's soil. If you are successful, your own present will altered; you may well lose your life. Are you willing to take that chance?"

Lose his life…yes. Of course. As he had said, the ring had lengthened his life. If he intervened, if he changed things, it was very possible and more than likely that these last couple of years would no longer be his. He may well have died years ago.

But Thorin…Fili…Kili.

Lifting his head, voice full of resolve, Bilbo nodded. "I accept and I will take what consequences come of it."

"So be it."


	4. Chapter 4

"Uncle…are you sure?"

Bilbo paused, though only briefly amid digging through their supplies. Frodo had remained silent ever since his relation's return from the City of Bells but as he watched his elderly father-figure pull out the old Mithril vest and test his grip upon Sting, all the while leaning upon his cane for support, his heart ached.

Bilbo was not blind to this.

Setting his things aside a moment, he approached his nephew and laid gentle hands upon his face. "My dear boy. Do not trouble your mind with me. I have enough spunk left in me yet for another journey. And one of this much importance, I shall not fail."

Frodo hardly looked convinced, biting his lower lip. "Uncle…what about…you're not as strong as you used to be. Not as fast. The journey to Erebor wasn't an easy one. You told me a lot about it but I suspect you left out quite a bit."

"Aye, true indeed, I did, smart lad." Bilbo turned back to his packing, placing some folded clothes into the knapsack and taking special care to include extra rations of food. Valinor had plenty and while he could hardly fit a ostentatious amount of it, it was enough to provide some relief for aching bellies. "It will not be a pleasant adventure, at least as far as my old bones are concerned but don't you worry about that. What's important is that I was granted leave. I was given my chance."

Frodo nodded, sat down on his own bed by the window as daylight slowly sank. His Uncle was full of spunk, much more than Frodo had seen in such a long while but it did not stop him from pausing to massage his lower back or to reorient himself as he walked. The old Hobbit's eyes were hardly what they used to be and whiteness had all but taken his hair.

Frodo trembled to consider what a orc blade or even a sharp thrust of a troll might do to that body now. Less than two years ago, his Uncle seemed hardly beyond age, young and full of energy. All of a result of the ring, yes but it would have been all too welcomed now.

"Do you think you will be able to do what you desire?" Frodo's voice wavered slightly. "I do not doubt your heart, Uncle so please do not slew your poison on my ears. But I doubt the strength of your body. Did you not proclaim to take possession of the Ring and take it onto Mordor's fire yourself? Yet, Gandalf spoke true—your body could not bear that journey."

Bilbo took a breath to calm the fire that raged in his heart. His nephew spoke no lie and there was nothing but love in his declaration. So, after a moment or two, Bilbo turned, faced him and said candidly.

"Yes, Gandalf did say as much. I cannot say, my boy, if his words rang true or not. He no doubt was considering my rather lengthy history with the ring and I cannot deny that to take it up again may well have hindered the quest. Nor do I doubt that his words were meant to deny me further pain and suffering. But pain and suffering I have still endured and the fact that you have taken on pain that was never yours to bear brings hurt to my heart beyond what I can imagine. This is not just about saving Thorin, Fili, Kili…it is also about setting right a wrongward path. A path that led YOU to so much pain. I will not and cannot do nothing."

Frodo knew conviction when he heard it and he knew all too well, more so than any of the others, that his uncle would not be swayed. The deaths of Thorin and the others bore far too heavy a load on his heart and while he had never said so, he knew that each time Bilbo saw him grasp his wounds, a deep guilt took the old Hobbit's eyes.

No. He could not stop this. He had no power to stop it.

So, he sat still and nodded to the words of his Uncle. "We've been luckier than most Hobbits have cause to be," He finally settled on. "I hope it follows you."

OOO

Night was just as beautiful as day on Valinor and Bilbo ventured out into it. His legs trembled and quaked as he walked but he forced them. They would need to do far more come the morrow. He did not speak of his fears but they were certainly on his heart.

Frodo and Gandalf told no lies. He was old and his body not what it once was. The prospect of dying on the quest didn't bother him, not nearly as much as it maybe should have, but what did lie heavy on his mind was the possibility of failure. Of trying and still having to watch his dear friends fall, to watch the light leave their eyes again.

He did not know if he could bear it a second time. He barely endured when the moments returned to him in the darkness of night. It mattered not that decades had passed. Every time the dreams returned him to those horrific moments, it was as if no passage of time had occurred at all and the wounds on his heart, scarred over, were ripped open to bleed anew.

He could not allow this to fail.

Pausing in his walk, Bilbo winced and rubbed his lower back. His legs ached and throbbed so after a delay of thought, he slid to the ground amid the blue and white flowers and eased his feet to the small pool nearby.

The coolness was a balm to the ache. Well, perhaps he would be slower than last time but he would make himself succeed. On that, he was adamant. He did not know how he would succeed but he must.

On the trip back to the Shire, he had been on his own for most of the journey once Gandalf left him, and Bilbo had lost himself amid his dark thoughts. Thorin's death had dulled the colors of the countryside even as gorgeous as the autumn colors made them. He had found himself singing, writing songs and eventually, by the time he had crossed the Shire's borders, he had written a song of mourning and respect for his dear friend that he never failed to sing each year, on Durin's Day.

And one other time…

Tears in his eyes at the memory, Bilbo took a shaky breath. It had not been long after his return that news of a dwarf caravan had passed through. Yes, yes, with Dain in the mountain, the people of the Blue Mountains could return home. While had no intention of speaking with them, he had ventured down to watch them pass all the same.

Oh, such a solemn trek he had observed. True, there were children and talk he overheard of the return back to their ancestral home, but the bulk of the adults had traveled with dark cloaked and their hair stripped of any finery.

But Bilbo had only eyes for one in particular. A tall figure, alone, on a pony in the front, clothed in dark blues but with a shawl of dark black hiding the hair and face. It was only when Bilbo came out from the side of the path that he had recognized that it was a she and that could only be one person.

_Lady Dis_, he had said without preamble, dropping to one knee.

Pulling on the reins, she had stopped and faced him with a eyes full of pain and sorrow and visage stripped of beard. A raise of her hand had stopped the train in their tracks. With the grace that was only offered to one of her stature, she had dismounted, approached and asked, "Are you the Hobbit that strove to protect my brother and my sons?"

_Yes, Lady Dis_, he had said to her, voice choked with emotion. _Forgive my failure._

She had knelt and laid her forehead on his with a soft, "I have only gratitude for you, Bilbo of the Shire."

She had come in for tea at his insistence and the caravan had taken the opportunity to regroup, build supplies and gather food and water for the road. There had been little said between him and Lady Dis but somehow, they had ended up in Bilbo's garden before a series of three small trees he had planted upon his return. _A small shrine and hardly worthy of them_, he had said, flustered, but it is all I have to offer them. _This and a promise that their memory will never be forgotten._

Bilbo sighed and without realizing it, he began to chant, the same soft song he had written on his ride home and the same humble dedication he had given unto Lady Dis: "How shall we remember our fallen friend? Who conquered Dragon Sickness in the end? A warrior, leader, and proud flawed King? A worthy descendent of Mighty Durin."

The landscape of Valinor was quiet, only the echo of his words disturbing the night's calm. It was something Bilbo was grateful for. He needed this night to think. He knew not what the next day would bring…where he would be dropped, when he would be dropped, and how long he would have to act.

"Young Bilbo!"

Jumping a bit at the sudden sound, the Hobbit turned and for a moment, he thought it to be Lady Yavanna but no…this one was coated in flowers and the bloom of youth, new petals seemingly flooded her face.

"Lady Vána?" He asked finally. For truly, this could only be the younger sister of Lady Yavanna.

Smiling, she approached and unlike the others, she took the liberty of reducing her size to be more on his level. Rather polite of her, he thought.

"Yes, I come on behalf of my sister and her husband and on behalf of myself." She knelt and sat next to him, her very presence seeming to make the landscape glow with a summer heat. She was called the Ever-Young for a reason, he supposed; the flowers about them seemed to reach up to her as a child does.

"I am flattered, dear Lady."

She shook her head. "Your tenacity and loyalty is to be admired. It's not often that one sees Námo smile, though he hides it so well." She folded her arms. "And he did it before Lord Manwë finished speaking. He knew…"

That was the first bit of news that gave Bilbo some hope! "Did he—"

"There's little that occurs that Lord Námo is not aware of." She assured him. "He is restricted by rules that only he knows but I have not seen his heart moved for so long. As is mine. There is little that we weep for more than love and yours is all but blinding."

Bilbo bowed his head. "I can do little else, my Lady. I do not know what I am capable of doing, as Gandalf is right. I am a Hobbit and I am old. I am sure his worry over my choice is well known but it is my choice all the same." He took a breath. "I appreciate your kindness, my Lady and do…do give my regards to Lady Yavanna and Lord Aulë. I dare say that I shall not see them again."

Lady Vána smiled, the hidden giggle of an eternal child. "I would not be so dismissive. While we cannot intervene in great ways, you have won our favor, Child of Earth. Your heart is stout enough to cause more change than you know." She knelt and laid her lips to his hair, resting them there for a moment before gently pulling away. It was nearly intoxicating, as if he were being wrapped in the personification of innocence and youth. He nearly whined when she pulled away. "We are all bound by the rules of Ilúvatar but every rule is open to interpretation." Her eyes grew wet and cold. "You spoke honestly within the Halls, little one. I was hidden from sight but oh, I did hear your passion. There is much we should have done within the past that we did not. You put us to shame, though many will not say as much. But I shall. I believe in your heart and that it will not fail you."

Standing, Bilbo bowed to her. "Thank you for saying as much, My Lady. I will not deny that there is fear in my heart but I mean to do all that my soul and body can endure."

Nodding, she knelt and kissed his head again, "Go with my blessing, Child of the Earth and know that love is not to be underestimated. It was love that sprung the Music into being. It was love that let your dear nephew endure as long as he did. It was love that kept dear loyal Sam to his side. It is capable of great things."

Feeling refreshed in more ways than one, Bilbo bowed to her again, "It is indeed fortuitous, my Lady, that I was blessed to share your presence this night. I will go forth tomorrow with hope and courage. I…mean what I said—there is a more beautiful song to be made."

"And sing it, you will." She stood herself and her arms waved a fluttered of flower petals to him which he took with a warm smile. The deep inhale of the scent of rose and bluebell filled him with memory and he could see Thorin's smile again. He could hear Fili's chuckle and feel Kili all but choking him with a hug. Yes, soon it would be more than memory.

So caught up in the thought was he that as Bilbo took his leave and headed back for the final night on Valinor that he all but forgot his walking stick. But so full of passion was he that his steps fell easier, his breaths came firmer and he stood taller.

Vána watched him depart.

"We are all bound by the rules of Ilúvatar but every rule is open to interpretation."

*O*O*

NOTE: Bilbo's song for Thorin is taken from Eurielle's absolutely gorgeous "Lament for Thorin." Check it out on YouTube, it's amazing.


	5. Chapter 5

Morning came with pleasant song and the smell of breakfast in the kitchen. Bilbo blinked once then twice as he awoke, letting the warmth of the sun coat his face. He looked about, rather surprised to find himself still in his room in Valinor. Did not Eru Illvatar grant him passage to undo the wrongs that had been done?

But then again, perhaps the All Father as the Dwarves had called him was wise enough to know a journey of such significance should not be attempted on an empty stomach. A good breakfast was vital to one maintaining good stamina. Even the dwarves, as anxious to get on their way as they had been, had seen to that.

The dwarves...

As Bilbo rose from his bed and grasped his clothing, his thoughts wandered to the past. The first time he had joined the people of Durin on their quest. Oh, as frightening as it was to ponder, for the details of the perils of the journey had not faded with time, his heart ached ever more to see them all again. To see Oin, Ori, Balin, Fili, Kili...Thorin...

Alive again.

Bilbo took a heavy breath as he sat to gather his knapsack and paused in mid movement.

His hands did not shake as much and indeed, he could not see the ever present age spots that he had grown accustomed to over the years. There was still wrinkling, still the stretching age of the body that could not be avoided. Yet, there was less of it. As he tensed his hand into a tight fist, the muscles did not protest nearly as much as they should have.

More than a little frantic, Bilbo snagged the nearby pitcher and with shaking hands poured a sampling into the bedside bowl. As soon as the sloshing of liquid settled and a reflection was found, he gazed downward.

Hair that was grey but not yet white. Skin stretched thin but not yet wrinkled. Strength and vigor behind eyes he had not seen in years. Not since that fateful one hundred and eleventh birthday.

He was younger. Not in his prime by any stretch of definition but younger. Stronger. More full of stamina.

"By Yavanna's leaves..."

Dropping his thoughts, Bilbo rushed towards the sitting hall, calling frantically, "Frodo! Frodo, my lad!"

Obedient as always, the boy reappeared from a seat out on the balcony, the waves of the sea still audible in the wind behind him. Before another word could be said, Frodo's face spoke all. His hands went to his mouth and skin grew ashen.

"It is true what I see then?" Bilbo inquired. "I have not slipped into the madness that would plague the old as death calls upon them?"

Shaking his head, Frodo answered, with voice rough with weariness and shock. "No Uncle. You are...as you were on the night you left the Shire. Right when you dropped the ring from your keeping. It is as if time itself has been rewound for you, called backward upon itself."

Slumping into a nearby chair, the old hobbit's mind swirled before he looked up with absolution in his eyes. "Lady Vána."

Frodo blinked once, twice, thrice. "Lady Yavanna's sister?"

"Aye, lad. The Ever-Young as she is sometimes called." Rising to his feet again, Bilbo stumbled into the kitchen taking ample samples of fruit, breads and meats as he went. "I was blessed with her presence last night as I took in these lands one last time and she gave a kiss to me—several in fact." He laughed, brightly. "I would expect as much from a Vala based in youth. Loopholes and roundabouts and methods of bending rules are the lifeblood of the young."

Frodo just stood there, waiting. "She...has such ability?"

"I doubt it would be from another, my boy." Swallowing, he turned and his heart dropped. He should have expected his nephew was hoping he might change his mind and with this advantage now granted, there was no possibility. Bilbo's heart would have never allowed him to rescind once he had made up his mind but his physical body was another matter. With that obstacle gone, there was no turning back and the terror was clear on the younger hobbit's face. "Frodo, my dear boy." Bilbo approached, lay both hands on his nephew's shoulders. "Do not let fear dictate your heart."

"How can I not, Uncle?" He demanded though without much bite. "I know your heart commands you and I will not strive to sway it. But I fear for you, all the same. I do not doubt your courage or your heart but..you are dear to me." He looked up. "You know this."

Bilbo leaned forward and rested his forehead on Frodo's as he had seen Thorin do with his own nephews many a time. "I do not wish to part from you, my dear boy but if I should succeed at this and spare you great pain that you carry without reason. I must try. If I could spare a mother the loss of her children, her brother, then I must try."

Frodo reached out and lay a hand over his relative's heart. "And if you might spare a dear friend the pain of being unable to save them, despite having done all he could?"

Bilbo bit his lower lip. "Yes. Yes. If I might..." he shook his head. "Do not despair, my lad. If you can endure as much as you have, the odds are good for me!"

Frodo allowed a smile. Uncle was so like Sam at times. It was a pleasant reminder. "Not much can damper your spirits, can it, Uncle?"

Bilbo gave a soft smile "Not if I can help it. Now, would you be so kind as to join me for breakfast before I set off?"

Frodo gathered a plate and quickly filled it up.

OOO

Bilbo wasn't sure who he expected to see when he emerged from the small house he and Frodo had come to accompany but seeing a gathering of elves and Gandalf should not have surprised him. All the same, it was nice to see some familiar faces.

Lady Galadriel as always greeted him with her warm smile. "Are you prepared, Bilbo Baggins of Erebor?"

That caught him off guard. Every other person that he had been given a title from always said "of the Shire" which certainly was understandable. Yet he could not help but smile at the notion. Perhaps, in another lifetime, he might have been blessed with such a title. He bowed to her lightly.

Her voice echoed in his mind. Go with stout heart, dear Bilbo. There is much you have possibility to alter, in more ways than you may fathom. Trust in your heart; it shall not lead you astray.

Bilbo lifted his eyes and she held out her hand, uncoiling her fingers for him. Within her palm sat a clear phial, shimmering with untapped light. Bilbo took it from her with reverence. "You bless me to trust me with something so valuable, my Lady."

Galadriel smiled again, warm sunlight cutting through morning dew. "Your kin guarded it well and returned it unto me unscathed." Frodo, standing just behind, bowed his head lightly. "So I say to you, Bilbo Baggins, as I said to Frodo—May it be a light for you in dark places, when all other lights go out." She rose to her full height. "You May find the Light of Eärendil to be a guiding light in more ways than one."

With a nod, Bilbo turned to the remaining group—Elrond and Gandalf. The Elf Lord seemed more reluctant than Galadriel but then she had always had more insight than he. All the same, he gave a half smile. "I bid you the best of journeys, Bilbo Baggins. It appears Lady Vána has already given a gift to you."

Adjusting his knapsack, Bilbo remarked "Aye, a most unexpected but welcomed aid, I can assure you. Would you be so kind as to give her my thanks, Lord Elrond?"

"I am sure she is aware of it but I will extend it to her, all the same." Elrond advised, "Be cautious, Bilbo Baggins. Amending the past is rarely done and small things—beyond what we can comprehend—May be undone."

Bilbo gave a nod. "Wise counsel, Lord Elrond. I seek to correct that which should never have come to pass, but I will go with caution about my steps."

At long last, Bilbo turned to Gandalf. "My dear friend," the hobbit began. " I asked it if you once and you did not fail me so I will ask it again. Would you—"

"Two eyes," Gandalf answered with a warm look at Frodo. "As often as I might spare them." The wizard knelt and as Galadriel had done, he extended a hand. When he unveiled it, Bilbo found himself looking upon a white blade tip, though it held no hilt. "Time is short, even for the Valar," Gandalf advised "But Lord Aulë was insistent."

Bilbo took the blade with care before wrapping it and placing it in his knapsack. "I hope he is not offended that I know little of blades."

"I'd say he was quite aware." The wizard replied. "Yet he was insistent that you would know when it was needed. I know not what secrets Mandos whispered in his ears or if he merely has faith in you. But I trust you to know when it is right, my dear friend."

Bilbo gave a nod then turned and opened his arms. Frodo wasted no time in rushing into them and Bilbo pulled him close. "No fear, my lad. This will be over and done soon enough and I will return with a better life set out for you."

Frodo nodded against his chest and after a moment, he pulled away. "Go with care, Uncle and never forget that you have my love."

"Always, my dear boy."

Galadriel approached, gently placed her fingers on Frodo's shoulders and mused in her musical tone "Come, dear Frodo."

It was nearly impossible to ignore that gentle command so the younger Hobbit turned with her and after a moment delay, Elrond did the same, leaving only Bilbo and Gandalf standing amid the lapping waves.

For a moment, they just stared upon one another then Gandalf said, "The bravery of Hobbits puts the feats of Men, Elf and Dwarf to shame."

Bilbo did not answer that. He only stood a little taller. "Thank you, Gandalf, for everything."

The wizard leaned on his staff. "I told your nephew not all that long ago that the fate of many may lie in your pity. Now it seems that once again the heart of a hobbit may rule us all." The aged man gazed down at Bilbo with an unwearied face. "Yet that causes me more comfort than concern. Your heart did not fail you before. Nor did Frodo's. I have no doubt, my friend, that it will not break form now."

Turning, Gandalf raised his arm to the sea and called out a few words in a language long since dead to all but a scarce few, even among the eldest of Valinor. A low rumble began amid the waves before they rose and spun in a circular pattern, leaving a dark tunnel of deep water and foam before them. There was naught to be seen more than three feet ahead; the condensation of water let little sunlight in.

It was a magnificent sight.

Gandalf coughed lightly. "Our Lord Eru Ilúvatar has always had an...enjoyment of the theatrical."

Bilbo smiled, despite the fear in his gut. "As well he should. With such beauty sung into being, I dare say that I would show it off some too."

The hobbit inhaled, held the scent of Valinor in his lungs for as long as he could then slowly stepped forward, the swirling waters gave support to his weight and the image ahead stayed firm and dark. Was this another test of trust? Anyone knew that hobbits were not fond of water and after what happened with Frodo's parents, Bilbo in particular, was less comfortable around anything larger than a river unless it be from a distance.

The deeper he walked, the colder it became but his heart grew lighter. Each step was another step towards his old dear friends and another step towards fixing that which went awry. Hope kindled in his breast and he held it there like a gem.

Zurnî adjân sabk, 'ata khuluk d' adruf.

Bilbo turned, eyes wide because he knew Khuzdul when he heard it even if the words meant little to him. More important than that, he knew that trembling baritone.

"Thorin?"

Then the tunnel closed in about him and consciousness fled him.


	6. Chapter 6

Bilbo awoke.

It was a slow process, something the hobbit had grown accustomed to over many years. There was hardly reason to rush about so. A slow morning just meant more tins to appreciate the many opportunities. Savor the smell of breakfast, take a moment to let the taste of the bread and butter linger on the tongue. Take comfort in the warmth of the sun just barely glittering through the windowpanes.

Nothing of the sort greeted him now. He awoke with a face half in mud and half still submerged in water. A riverbank though he found that luckily, he still maintained his knapsack and belongings. A blessing indeed considering he'd no idea how long he'd been in such a position.

Well, this wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all!

Scrambling to rise, the hobbit righted himself before taking advantage of the river water to cleanse what mud he could. It still left him looking the part of a rat that had misjudged the timing of spring rains but it was a much more presentable look. That accomplished and feeling much more like himself, the elder hobbit took the time to gather his bearings.

It did not take long to spy the old bridge, stone quite recognizable. No one knew how old it was but given the craftsmanship and the pride Bilbo had seen in his Dwarven companions' faces during their original trip across it, he suspected it to be of Dwarven make from perhaps the First Age. If there was one thing he had found over his adventures, it was that Dwarven craft, especially that which was done with love and passion would surpass anything the elves could make.

He'd said as much in Valinor, even rejecting Fëanor as possessing better skill with metal and stone when compared to Dwarven hands. Perhaps a bold statement, to claim such against the maker of the Silmarils but the old hobbit stuck to his belief as much as an old retired hobbit would stick to a well-worn chair and familiar mug.

Gandalf had chuckled silently, Lord Elrond had sighed but Lady Galadriel had only smiled and said that while Fëanor possessed skills beyond the mind's imagining, the skill of metal and stone when in Dwarven hands would surpass them had they been given chance. She'd said nothing more on it and while Bilbo was not certain if she had humored him or not, the look upon her eyes seemed to dictate truth.

Thus, seeing the Old Bridge again with new respect caused a deep longing to rise within his heart. Oh, he'd barely noticed it the first time they had gone past; so preoccupied he'd been with the discomfort of the pony, the loss of his handkerchief and leaving home behind. So wise he had thought he was yet so blind to everything that mattered.

Approaching the familiar structure, Bilbo allowed himself a moment of reprieve to consider what was about to come. Judging by the light rain that was slowly pattering the ground, the Company would be passing by any minute. He had not considered how he might approach this.

Telling them the truth flat out would be far too risky as far as he was concerned. Lord Elrond was correct that there were many ripples associated with time. He had returned to set correct the most egregious of them but be wary! He could hardly afford to set in course a worse future. No, such a thing simply would not do at all!

Taking a glance around, with quite the sour expression his face, he reentered the water, trudging to the area beneath it. There was room to sit and remain at least somewhat out of the water so the old Hobbit took full advantage of it. Once his feet were out of the water, it was much easier to think though most uncomfortable!

He would need to be close to them. Much as Bilbo was determined, he was no fool. He could trudge after them on foot but until they lost their ponies, he would be left far behind. There was no way that he could maintain their speed without a steed of his own and for all the wondrous gifts the Valar had given him, he did not have such an option.

That left him with little options aside from being accepted into the Company. Quite a dilemma, indeed. Thorin, as much as Bilbo had grown to love him as if he were of his own blood, was hard headed and stubborn. Coming upon not only a Hobbit but an older Hobbit would not exactly be an easy sell. As much as merciful Vána's gift was invaluable, it would not be enough to convince the King Under the Mountain.

All the same, convince him he must and he was determined to do so!

Rustling above and slightly behind him, followed by the familiar chanting of voices gave Bilbo slight pause. Oh, those voices, he knew those voices all too well but it had been too far long since they had chimed in his ears.

Rising louder than the others were the voices born and bred in youth, chanting what Bilbo now knew to be a Dwarven traveling song.

Tears prickled his eyes. "Fili. Kili…"

Aye, aye, it was them. He knew their voices as well as he knew his own. So full of energy, so full of hope and optimism and never dreaming of anything but victory. It was hard to catch but if one knew what to listen for, you could hear the low hum of Thorin adding a low bass to their cheerful banter.

Whispering, just slightly under his breath, Bilbo prayed, "Eru Ilúvatar, you have given unto me a grand gift, one that I do not take lightly. I ask you…guide my lips, my feet, my steps. I will surrender what I must if only I might set the music correct."

He received no indication that he had been heard but such a thing was not unheard of. Even though he had often prayed to Yavanna, you never expected an answer. You saw the answer in life. The same must apply here. All he could do is what he could do and he hoped…placed all the hope he held within his breast….that it would be enough.

Slipping from under the bridge, he washed his feet as best he could in the stream once more as well as his hands and clothes before climbing up the narrow shore and staking a position to the side of the path—not enough to block the way but close enough that he would be seen. So many things rushed through his mind. Things to say, things to think, things beyond what he might consider.

This was the start of it. This was where it began. This was where the music shifted.

They came from the surrounding forest not in a straight line; such a thing was not becoming of dwarves who spent far more time clustered in groups and indeed, there was safety in those numbers. All the same, in the front, tall and majestic as he remembered, was Thorin Oakenshield.

Long black hair, tinted with silver, the tall posture, the stoic expression that hid a heart full of passion and if you bothered to pay attention to his eyes, there was always compassion there, always concern. Always for his people.

It took all Bilbo had to resist rushing the dwarf, tears spilling down his eyes and just relishing in how very much alive and unburied he was. To savor the beat of his heart, to drown in that voice again. To cast Fate aside with a surge of energy unbecoming of a Hobbit of his age but he could not.

This Thorin did not yet know him. Not like Bilbo had come to know him. Not yet.

So, he locked his knees and stood as tall as he could. He could see confusion in Thorin's eyes, utter bafflement if one was to be honest and clear. Understandable. After all, they were nearly beyond the boundaries where one might see Small Folk. Thorin inquired as such, "Well met, Stranger." Guarded as always, but respectful. The dwarf of honor he had come to respect so much.

_Oh, Thorin…we are no strangers…oh, by all that can blessed, you are alive. It is true, not merely an illusion of my old age. I have my chance. I have my chance. YOU have your chance!_

"What have we here?" A softer, gentler voice than Thorin's suddenly broke the moment and oh…it was Balin! Gentle, soft hearted Balin that deserved far better than the fate he was given. The wisdomed elder that had never faltered in his belief and had shown such kindness to Bilbo throughout the journey. "Well met, esteemed Sir," he intoned with a bow of the head. "I assure you that we will not be staying long if you lay claim to this land. Passing through, nothing more."

By now, the others had emerged from the back of the line, including Gandalf and yes…there were the boys.

Young, full of spunk, all smiles and laughter. Oh, to see them again…his heart pounded with the realization. If nothing else came of this, if everything was to fall to pieces, if all were to pass into ruin and flame, he had seen them again. Them and Thorin and Balin and by everything, to see them happy…

Determination rushed through his body as if sparked by fire. He lifted his head, eyes clear and remarked, as well as his tongue could, "Ashamâkh."

Oh, that got a reaction. A very visible one. The dwarves, all of them, rocked as if physically struck and Gandalf looked at him with more than a little suspicion. Bilbo wondered if Gandalf had any inkling. How did that work with time travel? He knew from his trip to Valinor that Gandalf was a Maiar but how much did he remember as he was now? It was hard to tell.

"You speak our secret tongue?" Balin's inquiry was spoken with slight hesitation and Bilbo knew that he would need to tread carefully. Khuzdul was a deeply personal thing to dwarves but he had been at a loss to get their attention otherwise long enough to have this conversation.

He also had to school himself to keep from looking around the group, to keep from taking in all the faces he had not seen for decades. Especially the ones that had been lost to death. To be standing before them again…

"I believe speaking it would be a bit too generous." Bilbo said quickly. "I have been entrusted with a few words and I do so hope that I have used them correctly." He turned, faced Thorin and again fought down the desire to throw himself at him and squeeze him so tightly that even Dwarven skin would give under the pressure. He bowed instead, falling to one knee. "I heard that the King Under the Mountain was passing through, on his quest to reclaim what was unfairly taken from him. I hoped to offer my services, in whatever way I might be of use."

"A hobbit that wants to join in my endeavor?" Thorin directed his attention to Gandalf, "It is by miracle alone that our Burglar agreed to come. Yet here is another, and of far greater age, somehow aware of our destination?" The Dwarf King turned back to Bilbo and the hobbit could just barely make out his younger self, awkward and unsure on his pony, almost sandwiched between Bofur and Kili. "How did you learn of it?"

"I have my sources," Bilbo responded simply. "I am sure Gandalf can attest to the fact that I am not a normal Hobbit." He didn't know if that would work but he set his gaze on the Wizard, meeting eye for eye.

With the attention set on the wizard, the party went quiet, waiting for the older man's response. The grey haired man narrowed his brows, studying the older Bilbo with cautious eyes. He was silent for far longer than was comfortable for anyone then as if recognizing something, his eyes went wide.

"So it appears. A hobbit you are indeed but it is a rare creature that comes with the glow of Valinor about them."

Kili leaned forward in his childlike curiosity. "The Undying Lands? Where Mahal's Halls dwell?! You've seen it?!"

"In a manner of speaking…"

Dwalin spoke out, "So the ol' wizard says. Lotta things come from Valinor that ain't been kind to us." The unspoken deeds soured the scene, leading to many shakings of heads and mutterings. "What have you to offer us?"

Balin winced, "Brother…"

"If he means us no harm then he won't think nothin' of answering it!"

Bilbo lifted his hands, held them empty and bare, "I am in my later years. The twilight of my life is upon me, true enough but I carry wisdom with that age. Wisdom of things you will encounter. Things you will deal with that I pray you would like me help you maneuver." He paused, considered. "You go to reclaim your home from Smaug the Golden." He waited.

Thorin, with clenched teeth, nodded. "So we do."

"He took your home from you and a great many loved ones. So he has taken three of mine. And his acts led to the deaths of three others." Bilbo considered this to be an exaggeration rather than an outright lie. Smaug's attack had led to their attempt to retake the mountain and his curse upon that gold surely carried weight that led to the deaths of Thorin, Fili and Kili directly…and Balin, Oin and Ori indirectly. "I would have justice served for them."

The group looked upon one another. Thorin observed him again, "We cannot bear you as a burden."

"And you need not." Bilbo assured him and pulled Sting from its holster. "I am completely capable of managing for myself. I require no payment. All I ask is the chance to lend my aid."

Sheathing the blade again, he folded his arms and waited, patiently. He did not know if he was convincing enough. His old age was proving more of an obstacle than he had planned though perhaps he should have…

"Master Hobbit," it was Ori that spoke, "Might we have your name?"

His name? Oh. He had not considered that. He had only ever been the Mad Baggins of Bag End but given that the much younger Bilbo Baggins sat not five feet from him, he certainly could not give that as a moniker! Well, no matter, he had all manner of relations and…

"Bango," He answered and added "Bango of the Goodbody family line." He had done quite a bit of butchering of some of his relatives' names but he surmised that they would not mind. When he saw the group turning to his younger self for confirmation, he moved quickly to avert it. Waving his hand dismissively, he added, "I dare say that while your Hobbit friend and I may share some blood—nearly all Hobbits do to some degree—we will not be close enough to share many stories."

"Haven't heard from the Goodbodys in quite some time," his younger self finally spoke out. "I had thought they had all left the Shire or intermarried so often to lose track of who held what name."

"Little matter," Thorin interrupted, "I am not convinced I…"

"Wait." It was Fili that spoke, the first time since their little gathering had started. Fili, while young, carried the weight of the royal line, something his Uncle had taught him well so when he swung off his pony and approached, the company grew quiet, all but Thorin.

"What is it, Fili?"

"Mister Bango," he spoke politely. "Might I see your hands again?"

That caught him a bit off guard but Bilbo obliged. Unfolding his palms, he held them out for the young dwarf to investigate. It did not take him long to see why. He had not taken note, despite the many number of times he had washed them since arriving—a set of dwarven runes were embedded on the palm of one of his hands, as clear as any birthmark.

"Unc—Thorin," Fili said, correcting himself from using the family title, "He bears the mark of Mahal."

Thorin paled, significantly and while he did not dismount, he led his pony closer and let his eyes fall on Bilbo's palms himself. As he did so, Bilbo found himself considering how he had come upon such a thing—and without his knowledge at that!

_Time is short, even for the Valar, but Lord Aulë was insistent._

The mark was on the palm with which he had taken the blade carved by the Smith Valar from Gandalf back on Valinor. Had he known? Had he suspected? Or was he merely as determined to have the past be changed as Bilbo was?

"Lad?" Balin asked.

Thorin looked at Bilbo a moment more, as if searching his face for falsehood. Their eyes met and for a moment, Bilbo let himself remember the friendship he had felt with the dwarf, the companionship. The deep belonging. The belonging he felt even now, without the connection reestablished. He was back among his family…

"He will ride with you, Master Baggins. Onward. Before we lose what little daylight we have left."


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm a bit baffled."

Bilbo looked at his younger self. They had been traveling with very little much to say, indeed for quite some time. Bilbo himself found little bother with it. He had become quite occupied with drinking in all the voices that he never thought he would hear again. The sudden intrusion from his younger self surprised him.

"Baffled?" He parroted. "How so...Bilbo, was it?" Oh, that felt weird. He certainly knew his own name but hobbits, for all their traits, often took some time to attach name to face. He remembered all too well confusing the dwarves' names quite frequently! It did not help that most of them rhymed!

"Yes, Bilbo." The younger hobbit dropped his voice so the dwarves up ahead would not be privy to their conversation. He need not have; Dwarves, of all people, had a healthy respect for the desire of privacy and secrecy. "I am baffled why you are involved with this. Myself to, for that matter."

Smiling, Bilbo replied, "Oh, I think you know more than you imagine. Why did you run after them at such speed?"

Frowning, the younger one remarked, "As of late, I am unsure! Adventure! Only good for fairy tales, I say. The stories certainly are quite untruthful about the monotony of it and the inconveniences at that! My stomach is quite unaccustomed."

By Yavanna, had he truly been this short-sighted?

"It has its downfalls, that much is certain," he offered. "However, there is much goodness and enlightenment to be found."

"Here?" Younger Bilbo looked upward at the gloomy clouds. "I must say, my good Hobbit, I do not possess your vision then."

"Oh, that much is very untrue." Bilbo remarked. "You are unsure what to make of what you are seeing but you know a great deal more than you think. If you were as blind as you claim, why did you strike out after them? It was surely not a spur of the moment decision?"

His younger self went quiet, contemplative. "I...suppose in some ways, no. I got little sleep, thinking over it. I suppose that my sleep would have been haunted with fears of incineration in any event."

Bilbo just was silent, waiting.

"Their song." The younger hobbit finally said. "There was a weight to it, a gravity, a realness. It was as if all the stories and dreams and tales I were told my whole life were suddenly before me, beckoning me onward—out into the wild, to places untold."

"The Took blood in you runs strong, my friend." Bilbo kept his tone level despite how much he wished to shake his younger self into comprehension. "But a Took is no less worthy than a Baggins. You fret so much over what people will think that I wonder if you ever stop to consider if it has any meaning."

Turning to look at him, rather baffled, the younger one inquired, "You mean to tell that I ought not to consider how this must look? Why I must be the talk of the Shire by now!"

"And if you are, take pride in it." Bilbo advised. "You've been brave enough time leave everything you know to help a group of homeless dwarves take back what is theirs! What shame is there in putting a roof above heads still bent in grief?"

The hobbit considered this. "Well, I do wish to help them." He looked ahead, at the laughing and chattering bunch, tossing ale and bread between them while another played a makeshift tune on a flute or lyre. "Though I don't understand them."

Bilbo shook his head. "You don't understand them yet."

"Well, you must admit—though it seems you have more experience with dwarves than I—that they are quite a different lot. Hardly the most dignified at times though I can not fault their kindness."

Bilbo found an odd anger in his heart and no small amount of shame. Gandalf had not been wrong when he had said he had changed and not for the better between his childhood and when the old wizard came to set him on this path. All the same, Bilbo knew that to succeed in this mission meant to win over his younger self. So after much consideration, he said, "It would appear you are more Sackville Baggins than I took you for."

Oh, that got a reaction. Eyes full of fire, Gus younger self shifted, at least as well as position on the pony would allow, to set him with a poisonous glance. "I beg your pardon?"

"Are you not doing what they do all the while? Judging and pushing your own view of what is right and proper and should be above all else, despite anything you hear to the contrary?"

"Now see here—"

"Remember, as I recall, the wisdom of your mother, Belladonna?"

His younger self stopped. "You...were known to my mother?"

"In a manner of speaking," Bilbo replied. "Her sharp tongue and wit made it hard for any to forget her."

A warmth took the younger Hobbit's face. "Yes. Yes, I do suppose that is true. But what wisdom are you referring to? She had little limit."

Bilbo smiled himself in memory. "Judge it for what it is, not what it is not." Leaning forward a bit, Bilbo gestured ahead, capturing his younger self's attention. "If we were to judge a rose for falling short because it did not possess the size of a sunflower or the posture of a tulip, we would miss out on much indeed. Or to dismiss stew for not having the sweetness of cake while ignoring the lovely savoriness it does have. Oh, it would a right tragedy, would it not?"

To his credit, his younger self considered and pondered his words. "Yes. So much we would miss out on." He looked ahead, then remarked, "I do suppose judging a dwarf by hobbit standards is just as egregious."

"Indeed, indeed." Bilbo nodded. "Better for all to learn and listen. How can one judge the value of something or someone if they do not know them?"

Taking a moment, the two hobbits rode in silence until younger Bilbo gently nudged the beast slightly more forward so that he fell into step just behind Glóin.

"Glóin, my good fellow, did I not hear you mention a family of your own?"

"Oh, you certainly did, my lad! Blessed be my luck you see for you'll not find a lovelier maid than my dear wife..."


	8. Chapter 8

Bilbo had to admit that sitting down, warm around a campfire was something he had sorely missed and it was not until this moment that he realized how much. The group had stopped for the evening and it didn't take long for a roaring fire to get going and Bombur wasted no time in gathering supplies for a hearty stew. Given the still dreary weather (though the rain had given a reprieve for now) the prospect was encouraging to all!

When Kili returned to camp with a pair of coneys raised in triumph, the cries of enthusiasm were hard to drown out and Bilbo was pretty sure the boy's face would have split if he'd the inclination to smile for much longer. Bilbo even caught the familiar clap of Thorin as he said something in Khuzdul when the boy walked close that simply made Kili beam all the brighter.

Bilbo kept a close watch to his younger self. He had gotten roped in with Glóin and Bofur and it seemed to have done its job—even if his younger version looked to be slightly regretful of all the information he had been given! Amid the brief overwhelmed expression though, bloomed the beginning of understanding. There was a warmness about the camp that had been missing. Not completely cohesive to be sure but a welcomed improvement nonetheless!

Oddly enough, as far as the dwarves were concerned, the two hobbits did not seem bothered at all when Kili began to prepare the hares.

Bofur expressed as much. "That don't bother you, does it?" The infliction was clear that Kili could do it elsewhere if need be. The young dwarf even stopped, looking to the two hobbits, the dusting of shame about his face. The prospect that he might be causing them distress bled through his face.

Younger Bilbo, considerably more relaxed than earlier replied, "Not at all, Bofur. And do go ahead, young Kili! My father was quite adept at preparing meats of all kinds though hardly quick enough with eye to catch them himself." Taking a quiet puff of his own pipe, he remarked "And especially on a night such as this when even the stars are shy."

Bilbo after his younger self took a pause in speech, remarked "Young Kili has a keen eye." He gave the boy a smile and the young dwarf grinned as if a warrior given an award for valiant behavior.

Fili laughed and blew out a ring of smoke, "Oh, don't start. You'll give him an ego...even if in THIS case, he does deserve it!"

Kili grinned again, unfazed, stating "Not my fault you can't spear an animal to save your life."

"Hey!" Fili remarked harshly, indignation in his tone. "I've brought home plenty of game."

"But your brother did so tonight so give him his credit," Thorin's voice indicated he would accept nothing less and the topic drifted. Once Kili passed the meat to Bombur, he took hold of the skins and after preparing them and hanging them aloft, he took a seat by his brother, gently shoving his shoulder.

As Bombur began the seasoning, young Bilbo glanced over and Bilbo gave him a soft nod, a hint of encouragement. The young hobbit was making connections and that was what was needed here.

"Might I ask...Master Glóin told me much about his lovely wife and son. Have you all any family?"

Oh, what a wonderful choice as the light that lit up in the dwarves' eyes helped bring even more joy to the gathering. It was Balin that answered.

"I think you'll find, laddie, that most of us brought our families with us. My brother and I are proud to be serving." Dwalin gave a low nod at the mention. "We've found our place by the royal family of Durin for many generations, by both choice and duty."

The young Hobbit took this in stride "You've no small ones of your own?"

Balin chuckled. "Raised more than my share but no, no dwarflings."

Dwalin remarked, "Might as well have raised those two rascals," with a nod to Fili and Kili, "Much trouble as they caused us."

Fili had the decency to look offended. "Hey! We weren't that bad!"

Thorin just scoffed, a bit, and only because Bilbo had grown to know him well did he recognize a muffled chuckle when he heard one. The others choosing not to comment said the rest.

Bofur, luckily, spoke, drawing attention away from the two younger dwarves. Bofur, perhaps more than most, seemed to remember the cultural divide. "Not a lot of dwarves have children, Bilbo. Those that do are treasured and blessed. Among our group here, only Glóin and Bombur have had the Child Longing." He smiled and nudged his brother "Rest of marry our craft to make life better for 'em and enjoy the fun role of Uncle!"

Fili nudged his brother. "Kili has it. Just hadn't found the dwarrowdam to help him with it."

Resisting the urge to explain to his younger self, Bilbo sat back and let the conversation unfold. Yes, young Kili had the Child Longing—the desire to marry and sire children rather than being solely devoted to a craft. The reminder just reinforced to Bilbo, once more, that no matter what was to come, he must succeed.

"Child...longing?" Younger Bilbo soojebit slowiy. "I must say, it must be a dwarf only element. I have never heard of such a thing."

Ori looked up, curiosity evident in his gaze. "Do Hobbits not posses it? When we passed through the Shire, we saw so many children! Or—perhaps I just assumed they were children?"

Young Bilbo smiled brightly, "Oh no, young Ori. I am sure you saw no shortage of young children. The Shire is quite full of them." He paused, considered what the other Hobbit had said about learning. It appeared there was more in common than he surmised "We hobbits are quite fond of our children."

Bilbo waited and as expected, several courses of "hear, hear!" rang out among the group and quite a few remarked on how taking back Erebor was going to be a gift to their children. The older hobbit allowed his mind to paint that, if only for a mere moment. Oh, the wonderful things that would flourish in a restored Erebor. If things went right.

When they went right.

Young Bilbo, when there was a break in conversation, feeling emboldened by the happy tones, asked "And when Thorin takes his place on the throne of Erebor, you two will stand as his heirs?" He directed his question at Fili and Kili.

Thorin, who had been silent the entire time, spoke, accusation in his tone. "Why would you assume such?" The tinge of defense was unmistakable though Bilbo was sure that Thorin thought it very well hidden indeed! The old Hobbit saw the tenderness of muscle as clear as day.

Young Bilbo, to his credit, remained as calm as one could expect, though caution crept back into his voice. "Forgive me, Thorin, if I've spoken out of turn. I must confess, we Hobbits know little of the line of succession, save our Thain—though that is more a title in these times than anything—I just assumed that because they hold your blood that they would be next in line." He ended it at that, genuine confusion conveyed in all the lines of his face.

Silence reigned a moment more and Dwalin, with that protective seriousness to his gruff voice, asked, "And who tol' ya that they were his blood?"

Older Bilbo took a breath to intervene and hopefully prevent an outburst of unnecessary violence but he need not bothered.

The younger Hobbit laughed aloud. "Oh, no one! Is that what all this fuss is concerned about? I must say though that no one would need to." He gestured to the leader of their group "I need only turn Thorin's hair golden and take a few years off his face to be faced with Fili, clear as he sits before me!"

Taking a puff of his pipe and noting the relaxation, although slight, in Dwalin's stance, the young Baggins of Bag End continued, "And young Kili carries Thorin in his face and stance. If you do not share blood then I am an orc!"

After a brief pause, Balin smiled, "Quite astute of you, Master Baggins. And now the lads know that I was not just teasing them when I told them the same!"

Fili chuckled and addressing the hobbit, he said, "Thorin is our mother's brother," in affirmation of his assumption. "And you do us honor by saying we carry any bit of our Uncle within us."

Thorin did not make any other comment on the topic though he did remove his arms from a fold when he took note that, as their Burglar had pointed out, Kili often relaxed in a similar stance. With a huff about patrolling a "bit further out" he left the warmth of the fire circle.

As for the two young dwarves, the smiles did not leave their faces for the rest of the night.


End file.
